


let's see what happens

by outranks



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Mild Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 05:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17074013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/pseuds/outranks
Summary: Rook has a few questions that have been weighing heavy on his mind and John may have the answers he’s looking for.





	let's see what happens

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt: _"I brought beer, have a seat!" with john?_ ♥
> 
> (beta'd by CrownBeed~)

Rook finds the box of fireworks in a dumpster behind a closed and burned down diner. His first instinct is to set them all off right then and there, but he’s in Holland Valley and John won’t stop snapping _sin_ and _atonement_ and _wrath_ in his direction, which gives him an idea for something better. If John wants his attention so badly then he can have it, just on Rook’s terms. In the middle of the night, when he’s asleep.

Besides that, there are a few questions, _hypotheticals_ , that have been weighing heavy on Rook’s mind and there is a small chance that John may have the answers he’s looking for.

Or maybe not. 

But either way at least Rook will get to have some fun.

*

It takes a few days to learn the schedules and movements of John’s guards, but only minutes to have them unconscious and face down in the dirt. The harder part comes when he’s trying to sneak onto the roof without being heard. While he has some practice in stealth he’s not exactly great at it, especially not while carrying a box of questionable explosives.

After that, Rook has to guess at where John’s bed is, with only the vaguest frame of reference, and hope that John is actually in it before he sets off the first firework. He laughs when if explodes in the air, loudly joyous, and for the first time in _weeks_ he’s having _fun_. Each crackle and spark of light and color make all the trouble of his plan feel worth it. 

And the fact that it’s at John’s expense only makes it better. 

The next two fireworks are smaller, but no less exciting, and the one after that brings the sound of a door slamming shut and with it _John,_ standing on his balcony in nothing but a pair of jeans and a heavy frown. 

“What are you _doing,_ ” John hisses, then repeats with a shout when Rook pretends not to hear. 

“Fireworks,” Rook calls back. 

“Why— how—” John’s mouth snaps shut, clenching his jaw tight as he turns to look over the railing at his useless guards. “Did you kill _all of them?_ ”

“No,” Rook says, “they’re just sleeping.” Most of them, at least, but John will find that out eventually and Rook plans to be somewhere else when he does. “There’s a ladder over there—” he points to where it’s leaning against the roof, for whatever ill-conceived reason the Peggies must have had. It’s really just a flaw in their already pitiful system. “If you want to join me.”

John makes an angry frustrated noise and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why would I want to join you?”

“I came here to talk.”

“By setting off fireworks on my roof while I was _asleep?_ ”

Rook shrugs. “Yeah.”

John makes that same noise of frustration, only this time louder, and stomps over to the ladder to drag it closer to where Rook is sitting. “You have been nothing but a problem since the moment you got here,” he says, nearly hidden under the scrape of metal against wood.

“To your house?” Rook asks.

“To this _county._ ” 

Rook has never seen anyone aggressively climb before, but somehow John manages it perfectly. “I’d argue that the people of this county feel the same way about you,” he says, shifting to the side to make room for John to sit next to him on the wide expanse of empty roof. “Because of the cult.”

“It’s not a—”

“And if I’m a _problem,_ then you only have yourself and your brothers and sister to blame.”

“We’re trying to make you understand.”

“By trying to kill me?”

“We’re not—” John’s hands ball into fists in his lap and he takes deep, even breath, exhaling slowly. “You may not understand our methods _now,_ but once you join us you’ll see that we’ve only been doing what we have to.”

“Have to?”

“You’re meant to join our family,” John says, turning to Rook and pressing into his space. “The Resistance, the sheriff, they’ve tainted your mind against us, but you’re supposed to be here. You’re supposed to stay. Joseph saw it, he was _told_ — we have been waiting for you—” he sighs, leaning back. “Your place is with us.”

Rook hums quietly, staring up at the night sky. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay?”

“I mean, I’m not buying what you’re selling, but I’ll listen to the sales pitch.”

“The… sales pitch,” John says, each word sounding ill-fitting in his mouth. “You want me to… _convince_ you that you should stay with me— with us?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“If you’re having doubts about the path you’re on, then let me guide you through atonement.”

Rook might not be the smartest man in Hope County, but he knows well enough what that would entail and he’d greatly prefer not to let John anywhere near him with a knife. “I’d rather not have my sins carved into my flesh, if it’s all the same to you.”

John’s lips press together in a tight line. “That’s only for those who refuse to confess. I could—” he rubs at his chest where his own scar is— “you would only need the tattoo.”

“Just—” Rook sighs. “Just tell me what’s the point of all this if the world is going to end?”

“The point is to reach Eden together,” John says like that’s a real answer or any kind of explanation.

It’s _not_ and Rook needs answers. He needs to know what he’s doing, what any of them are doing, because lately he’s not sure that he knows at all. “But we’ve both killed a lot of people, won’t that mean we can’t enter?”

“That’s why we confess our sins and seek forgiveness,” John says. “Joseph has seen what we must do and I— I know he’s right. He said that you would come for us and you _have_. You’re here even if you haven’t accepted us yet.”

“You don’t really make it easy to want to accept you and your family when you’ve been crucifying people.” Too often _literally._

“You think they were innocent?”

“I think you didn’t have the right to kill them.”

“If you knew what they had done—”

Rook wants to scream out his own frustration, but he holds it in and only rolls his shoulders back, attempting to dispel some of his sudden excess energy. “But I _don’t,_ ” he says. “How can I know anything about them when they’re nameless, faceless bodies with no way to identify who they were?”

“We protect who we can, even if it means sacrificing those who would stop us.”

“You sound like Jacob,” Rook says and rubs at his eyes until there are flashes of color at the edge of his vision. “I really didn’t come here to fight.”

“Then stop fighting me.”

“I’m _trying_.”

They lapse into a silence that isn’t exactly comfortable, but it _could be,_ given enough time.

“Why did you really come here, Rook?” John asks quietly. “What is it that you want?”

“I told you, I want answers. I want to know if I’ve chosen the right side, if all the fighting is worth it, if _this_ —” Rook spreads his arms wide, gesturing to the area around them— “would have been the better choice. I want to know if what I’m doing is _right._ ”

John looks at him for a moment, eyes clear and wide. “I don’t— Joseph would have the answers for you.”

“I’m not asking Joseph, I’m asking _you._ ”

“My family is here,” John says, reaching out to touch the back of his hand. “Everyone I care about is _here._ What we do— all of _this_ is for a better future where we can be together without pain and suffering. I _know_ that I’ve chosen the right side and I _know_ that the fighting is worth it, and I _know_ that I’ve chosen the right side. Rook… if you’re having doubts then maybe you already have your answer.”

Rook sighs, leaning back against the roof and staring up at the clear sky and more stars than he’s ever seen in his life. “Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.”

*

If Rook walks away with any answers, then he also walks away with a dozen more questions.

*

He waits a week before he goes back to John’s house, this time without the pageantry. While it had been _fun,_ it was far too much effort to put into getting John to talk to him. Especially when all he really has to do is let John know that he is listening. How the Seeds manage to keep up the dramatics at all times is honestly a mystery to him. Maybe that’s why they’re all so _intense_. Instead of getting a proper night's sleep they’re all awake figuring out the flashiest way to get Rook’s attention.

The worst part of that isn’t even that it’s working, but that it would work even better if one of them just offered him a proper meal. He’s spent so long mired in death and destruction that he’s willing to listen to anyone with a handful of answers and a steak. 

Especially the steak. 

The inside of John’s house is absurd and Rook hates it just from his view of the dim living room alone. An actual bear-skin rug is the kind of thing that’s somehow surprising and utterly predictable at the same time. He wonders how many times one of the Seeds, or a Peggie, has walked through and tripped over the head. And that’s not to mention how open and empty the space is. Like it was chosen purely for aesthetics without consideration for function or practicality.

It’s probably impossible to heat in the winter, too. In fucking _Montana_.

Rook drops onto the sofa that at least feels worn from use, and uncaps one of the beers he brought. Immediately he regrets it. The taste is _bad_ and the next time he sees Mary May he’s going to ask her just how long she had it before she decided to give him the case. 

There’s also one of the cult’s bibles on the table which has Rook more curious than anything else. 

He’s seen them around hundreds of times over, but he’s never really had the chance to take more than a brief look through the pages. If he’s searching for answers from one of the Seeds then knowing their history, and what they stand for, from a personal point of view can’t hurt as well.

Probably. 

Of course, he’s wrong about that. At least a little. It’s one thing to know their story second hand, from everyone in the county who has their own spin on who the Seeds are, and another thing entirely to read about it in Joseph’s words. There’s no excusing what they’ve done, but Rook can understand how they got there. If he had any close living family, or any close _friends,_ there isn’t much he wouldn’t do to protect them. 

“What—” John starts, stepping through the front door and closing it behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me? How long have you been here?”

Rook glances out the window where the sun is definitely starting to set and where it had been a lot lighter when he first arrived. “A while, I guess. I read your brother’s book.” He waves the book in case John wasn’t sure about what he meant, or if one his brothers had another book that no one new about. 

John looks confused and then shocked and then _pleased._ “You read the book?”

“Yeah,” Rook shrugs, “and I brought beer, have a seat.” He pats at the sofa beside him with one hand and holds up a beer with the other. 

“I don’t drink,” John says, but sits down next to him anyway. 

“That’s for the best.” The beer is so foul it may be classified as a poison.

“You read the book,” John repeats, but quieter this time. “Why?”

“I told you before, I have questions.”

“Did you find any answers?” John carefully takes the book from him and sets it back on the table. 

Rook shrugs again. “Maybe,” he says. Maybe not. “If Joseph is right—”

“He is.”

“Fine,” Rook sighs. “ _Because_ Joseph is right, then how does the whole bunker thing work? How are you supposed to have any kind of life in there?”

“I’ll have my family with me,” John says. “Once the collapse has happened my brothers, my sister, and the faithful will all be safe, _together._ ”

“But won’t that get kind of… lonely? The faithful are so devoted to you that you can’t exactly form any kind of deeper relationship, can you? And it’s not like you’re going to meet anyone new down there.”

“Many of the couples in our flock plan to have children after the collapse.”

“I guess,” Rook says, “if you want to talk to a baby.”

“I—” John makes a quiet sound of frustration, running his fingers through his hair and knocking his sunglasses to the ground where Rook picks them up to hand back to him. “Thank you,” he says, pulling a face that Rook can’t read. “I admit that I would rather have a partner to… share my life with, once we’re underground.”

Rook has no trouble imagining John with more than _a_ partner, but he knows well enough not to give voice to that opinion. “Isn’t that against the rules?” Even if Rook hasn’t been with anyone is _months,_ that’s still not a rule he could stick to in the long run. 

“It… is,” John says, “but not in the way you think.”

“You have someone then?”

“I would like to.”

Rook hums, unsure what to do with that information, and part of him wonders what kind of person John would be if he were in love. The same, he thinks, but maybe a little softer around the edges. “Do you have anything to eat?” he asks instead, hoping that John’s kitchen is as well stocked as it looks.

“If you stay, Joseph will be cooking dinner tonight.”

*

Dinner with the Seeds is somehow exactly what Rook has been missing in his life.

*

The third time Rook goes to John’s house he ends up playing poker with a few of the Peggies. Apparently they’d been given orders not to kill him on sight if he showed up again, which is both an incredible mistake on John’s part and probably what Rook would do in the same situation. So he really can’t fault anyone for it. And it’s not as if Rook is much of a threat to them anyway, especially not after the Seeds had fed him and sent him off with _leftovers._

Rook wants to believe that he isn’t really so easily swayed, but more and more these days all he wants is a measure of kindness without conditions or expectations. Not that the Seeds give him that, and the cult is definitely more of a burden than he thinks he can handle. It’s just that every day he’s less certain of where he belongs and when he tries to make a home in the Resistance all he’s given is a gun.

“Why’d you join the Project?” he asks the small group of Peggies, all waiting for him to play his losing hand on a bet he probably shouldn't have made. There will be no way he can explain why the Peggies are hanging out with Cheeseburger for a week.

At least he’s good at stalling for time.

“I was looking for a place to belong, a real sense of community, and then I met the Father and he told me all of that was right here. Met my best buddy Dave here, too,” one of the larger, more heavily bearded Peggies says, lightly punching his friend in the arm.

The other Peggie, _Dave,_ nods eagerly. “I was in a dark place for a while and then I heard the Father speak and I thought to myself ‘you know what, David? Maybe things can get better’ and here I am,” he says, pulling an Eden’s Gate pendant out from under his shirt and flipping it over. On the back are little scratched numbers that Rook can’t quite read from where he’s sitting, but he thinks it’s a date. “Three years sober and I couldn’t have done it without my family here, and John who has been an inspiration to me.”

Rook turns to the third Peggie, expecting another story of family and belonging, but the woman just shrugs. “Got to play with some dogs,” she says. The reasoning is solid, though Rook can’t even pretend to understand the correlation.

“Why are you all in here?” John asks, not unkindly, but definitely bordering on suspicious as he walks through the open doors.

“They’re guarding me while I wait for you,” Rook says and holds up a case of juice boxes he’d found in an abandoned house. “I brought better drinks this time.” 

John’s head tilts in confusion and his mouth opens like he’s going to speak, but instead he just sighs. “The rest of you, go back to work,” he says eventually.

The Peggies all set down there cards and leave with a murmured _yes, John_ and _yes, herald_ and all of them seem happy to follow his order. Like any interaction with John is something to be excited about. Rook, for his part, is immensely grateful John ended their game before he had to give up his bear for a week. 

“You came back,” John says, shrugging off his probably custom made plane jacket, draping over the back of the couch, and joining rook on the sofa again. 

“I did.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“I wanted to talk,” Rook says. “I can leave if you want.”

“I want you to _stay._ ” John reaches out to grip his arm tight. “Tell me why you keep coming to me?” 

Rook doesn’t have a great answer for that, at least not one he thinks he can properly articulate. “Existential dread?” he suggests first. “The fear that everything I’m doing is wrong? I don’t have a home anymore, and I never properly moved into my new place when I got here anyway, but lately I’ve felt homesick.” That has to be the worst explanation he can give, but Rook doesn’t know what else to say. 

“You could have gone to the Father,” John says. “Joseph would know how to help.”

“Maybe,” Rook says, “but I wanted to talk to you.”

“Why me?”

“I _like_ talking to you.”

John’s eyes go wide, searching, looking for answers Rook won’t have. “You—” he grabs the collar of Rook’s shirt with his free hand and pulls him into a kiss that’s soft and sweet and only scratches a little with John’s beard. It’s unexpected and anticipated, and entirely welcome.

“This only makes things more complicated,” Rook whispers against John’s lips.

“Stay,” John says. “Stay here and we’ll find your answers together.”

“And what if we don’t.”

“We _will._ ”

Rook breathes soft laughter into the small space between them, dragging John closer, and considers the offer. It might be what he needs to sort out the mess of uncertainties in his head, or it could make everything worse. All he knows is that lately he’s felt ill-fitting in the life he’s been living and every day presents a new obstacle he’s no longer sure he can overcome alone. “Okay,” he says, “okay,” and he draws John into another kiss.

*

Rook doesn’t have his answers, but for the first time in a while he thinks he’s on the right path to find them.


End file.
